"Don't send me away! Let me
help you!"
"You can't," he said. "You've been too good to me--already."
"You wouldn't say that to me if I were--your wife," she said.
He flinched sharply. "Juliet! Don't torture me! I've had--as much as I
can stand to-night."
She held out her hand to him with a gesture superbly simple. "My dear, I
will marry you to-morrow if you will have me," she said.
He stood for a long second staring at her. Then she saw his face change
and harden. The ascetic look that she had noticed long ago came over it
like a mask.
"No!" he said. "No!"
Again he turned from her. He went away up the long room, the bare boards
echoing to the tramp of his feet with a dull and hopeless sound. He came
to a stand before the writing-table at the further end, and from there he
spoke to her, his words brief, as it were edged with steel.
"Can you imagine how Cain felt when he said that his punishment was
greater than he could bear? That's how I feel to-night. I am like Cain.
Whatever I touch is cursed."
The words startled her. Again for a second she wondered if the suffering
through which he had passed had affected his brain. But she felt no fear.
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